Camomile Lawn (9 page)

‘Are they here now?’

‘No, they took Sophy back to school on their way to their station and Oliver had to be back in his camp.’

‘What fun. I wish I’d seen them all.’ Calypso sounded wistful. Polly made no comment.

‘The twins did come one evening and Olly rang up but I was doing something else. What a pity.’

‘They can always come here. I’m alone. I’ve given them keys. Walter has his, of course.’

‘Polly—’ Calypso took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got to tell somebody.’

‘Fire away. Stay to supper, won’t you?’ Calypso looked awful, hunted, her normal bright confidence gone.

Richard came into the kitchen. ‘Hullo, girls.’ He kissed Calypso’s proffered cheek. The girls exchanged glances, the moment for confidences passed. During supper Richard told them all he had done for the Erstweilers, finishing his account with a compliment. ‘Damn good chap, your Hector. Couldn’t have managed without him, you’re a lucky girl.’

‘Yes,’ said Calypso. ‘Yes, of course.’

Helena telephoned from Cornwall. Polly called Richard to speak to her. The girls listened.

‘Yes, of course I’m here, couldn’t get in at Sarah’s house, they’ve shut it up. What? Tomorrow I’m meeting the Erstweilers and will bring them down with me, tell the Rector. What? When? Who? How ridiculous. One of those buggers must have done it to annoy, sitting there swathed in red tape—I told them—what? Not till tomorrow week? How did you find out? They telephoned Floyer? Why not me? I’m the one who’s on the spot. I’m the one who’s made all the running, well, not running, not with my leg, how could I? Polly fell over it. What? Oh all right, I’ll come home. Yes, tonight. I—’ He turned to the girls. ‘Cut off, goddammit. They aren’t getting out until tomorrow week and travelling via Bristol, I ask you. They get a train pass. Helena seems to want me home, didn’t know where I’d got to. I’d better catch the night train.’ He spoke forlornly.

Polly said, ‘It’s only one more week, Uncle, you’ve done marvels. It’s thanks to you they are getting out.’

‘I’ll take you to Paddington. I’ve got Hector’s car round the corner,’ Calypso offered.

‘What about—’ Polly began to speak but Calypso shook her head. ‘It was nothing, nothing important.’

Presently Polly watched Calypso, driving Hector’s Lagonda, their uncle beside her, vanish in the blackout.

‘Poor Calypso,’ said Polly out loud in the freezing street. She had never felt sorry for her cousin before. ‘I wonder!’ Indoors she went to the telephone and dialled thoughtfully.

‘Sorry I couldn’t ring before. I found my uncle here in bed.’ The telephone crackled. ‘Not my bed, one of the spares.’ She listened, then, ‘Well, I’m rather depressed. I came in full of zeal, went to see
The Wizard of Oz,
was all cheerful and relaxed, but not only was there Uncle Richard, you know who I mean, one leg, I tripped and fell over it. How? In the dark. No, not particularly funny, no, it just wasn’t. Then Calypso came along, yes, the beautiful cousin you want to meet. No, she was not at her best, she looked terrible, well, worried, fraught. She was just going to confide when Uncle interrupted us so we couldn’t talk. No, she clammed up. No, I can’t imagine what it is, she’s got everything. Well, I know she’s not got you. Yes, I promise you shall meet her, blast you. Yes. No, what I’m trying to say is not tonight. Because I’m feeling sad. Oh, really—do you think so? Cheer me up? Does it? All right, then, come along. I see I’ve got a lot to learn. Don’t forget I’ve got to clock in at my office at nine. All right, all right. No, I’m not joking. I can’t see it as funny.’

But forty years later, on her way to the funeral, Polly laughed out loud and her daughter in the back seat asked: ‘What’s the joke, Ma?’

‘Only something in my distant past. You wouldn’t find it amusing, just something I learned.’

‘You always said you were dead bored at lessons.’

‘Not on that occasion.’ Stifling her laughter, Polly snorted like a horse.

W
HEN CALYPSO HAD HER
stroke in 1979 she was completely paralysed for two days, unable to speak but able to see and hear. Bored by what she heard—everyone within earshot was cagey—and only able to see part of the room where she lay, she nerved herself to think back while she could and remember what had happened. She had long been aware of self-deception and wilful forgetfulness, a self-preserving double standard. As a convert to Catholicism, she was aware of her deceptions even in the confessional, of making her sins sound droll, therefore less serious. She was always angry when the priest could not share her view. Now, convinced she was dying, she cast her mind back to the moment she had realized that she had grown up and must manage by herself. When she made a rapid recovery her first words addressed to Hamish, who was sitting by her bed, were: ‘It was the night I put Uncle Richard on the night train. I got him a seat but I couldn’t get him a sleeper.’ Her speech was only slightly slurred and that left her after a few days. All that remained was a slight stiffening on one side of her face and a small limp.

‘I’m not dying,’ she had added, watching Hamish’s expression. ‘It takes three.’ Hamish, at a loss, had said: ‘Three what?’ looking at his mother with pity. Calypso answered ‘Strokes’, and drifted into a healing sleep.

It was a struggle to get Richard on the train, carrying his overnight bag in one hand, holding on to his arm with the other. The station swarmed with soldiers, sailors, airmen, a large proportion drunk. They overwhelmed the civilians and smelled different. Calypso supposed the materials their uniforms were made of absorbed the smells of beer and tobacco differently from civilians. She dragged her uncle along to the First Class carriages. ‘Get in here, Uncle Richard, I’ll find you a seat.’ She pushed and shoved, popping her head in and out of carriage doors. ‘Is there room for my uncle? He’s lost a leg, he can’t possibly stand all the way to Penzance.’

Taken aback by her beauty, made to feel guilty about the leg, a competition took place to surrender hard-won or booked seats. Calypso thrust Richard into a corner seat, crying: ‘Thank you, thank you, how kind of you. He’s not feeling very well, so it’s specially kind. Come and see me when you’re in London, won’t you? Oh, I am grateful.’ She kissed Richard, hissing in his ear, ‘Don’t you dare give them my address. Goodbye, Uncle Richard, goodbye,’ and leapt from the train as the guard blew his whistle. Watching the overladen train snake away into the dark she stood feeling totally alone, frightened but defiant. Now, she had thought, and remembered it all those years later, now I must live.

And if Uncle Richard hadn’t interrupted us and I’d asked Polly’s advice and taken it my life might have been entirely different. She thought, recovering from her stroke, that it was better that she had made her own decisions. There was nobody to blame but herself. Waking, she saw that Hamish still sat beside her bed. He must be anxious. He was also easily bored, taking after her.

‘Why don’t you read a book?’

‘Wouldn’t you mind?’ He hated the twist in her lovely face.

‘Why should I mind?’

‘Seems a bit insensitive.’

‘I’m not sensitive but I keep my promises.’

‘Of course. Don’t tire yourself talking.’

‘It’s wonderful to find I can. You are a promise.’

‘What?’

‘Glad I made it.’ His mother’s eyes smiled. He felt closer to her than he ever had. Perhaps she was dying? Hamish bent and kissed her.

‘Not dying yet.’ Her twisted mouth smiled. ‘Not this time.’

She had gone home after putting her uncle on the train, taking the Underground from Paddington to St James’s Park, then walking through the dark streets. She put her key in the door and pushed it open. Hector was standing in the hall.

‘I thought you were visiting your constituency.’ Calypso was suddenly very tired.

‘I decided to go tomorrow instead.’

‘Oh.’ Calypso walked past him and up the stairs.

‘I wanted to say I’m sorry.’

She stood on the stairs looking down. ‘Do you behave like that often?’

‘I thought you’d walked out on me.’

‘Do you behave like that often?’

‘Not very often. Darling, I wanted to say I’m sorry.’

‘Now you’ve said it.’ She started on up the stairs.

‘Calypso, I’ve said I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?’

‘No.’

‘Calypso, I’m sorry, darling, I’m sorry.’

‘Why didn’t you warn me?’

‘If I had you wouldn’t have married me.’

‘Oh yes I would.’

‘Why?’

‘For your money.’

‘Bitch.’ Hatred stretched between them, tangible, horrible. They stared at one another across the chasm. ‘It’s my fault,’ he said.

‘Mine too, now.’ Infinitely tired, Calypso held the banister. ‘I’ve been putting Uncle Richard on the night train.’

‘Oh my God, it started with him, stupid man trapped me in the bar.’

‘So I gather.’ Coldly she spoke, she felt numb with misery. ‘I’m cold, I’m tired.’

‘It won’t—’

‘Oh yes it will. I may be only nineteen but I know it happens again and again. I know that much—I’m twenty next week.’

‘Twenty. Oh God, Calypso, don’t leave me.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’

‘Why not?’ He stood in the hall looking up at her, eyes strange under the thick eyebrows. ‘Daphne left.’

‘I’m not Daphne.’

‘I didn’t love Daphne. I do love you.’

‘It doesn’t matter whether you do or not. I’m not in love with you. To be honest, I don’t think I’m the sort of girl who can love. I married you for your money and to give you an heir. That’s the deal, whatever way you wrap it up. I’ll keep my word and I hope you won’t get drunk and violent too often. I promise I’ll keep it. I only hope he’s not a sod like you.’

‘We’ll make a fine pair of parents,’ Hector shouted up the stairs. Then—‘What the hell are you laughing at?’

‘I left your—Oh Hector, I left your precious car at Paddington. I took it to go and see Polly then I took Uncle Richard to Paddington in it. Oh!’ she wailed. ‘Your precious car. I came home by Underground, forgot I’d had the car. Oh!’ She gave a whoop of laughter. ‘It’s by Platform One.’

‘And the keys are in the ignition, I suppose?’

‘Yes, they are. Why are you laughing?’

‘Because you are so funny. I’ll ring the police about it, then I’m coming to bed.’

‘Not with me, you’re not. I’m not keeping that promise tonight.’

‘I wouldn’t ask you to. I’m too bloody tired. I’ve been working like a dog all day with the most diabolical hangover.’

‘And bad conscience.’

‘That, too.’

‘It was months later,’ Calypso whispered to Hamish.

‘What was? Don’t tire yourself.’

‘Months later I kept my promise. I never let him promise, it would have been too humiliating.’

‘What would have been humiliating?’ Hamish wondered whether her mind was affected by her stroke.

‘Never mind,’ she said and reached for his hand. ‘Look, I can move my arm. I shall get well.’

O
LIVER TELEPHONED. ‘CAN YOU
have dinner with me?’

‘When?’ Calypso lay on the sofa.

‘Tonight. Please. I’m going away.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ll come round at once.’

She met him at the door. ‘Darling Olly.’ She hugged him.

‘I’m going to Norway.’

‘Oh, my God! Hector says it’s ill-fated. Why you?’

‘They want people who know mountains. They are even flying chaps from India who’ve done mountain warfare. I’m being given a commission.’

‘What about your principles?’

‘No commission no action, so I take it. I’ve been so bored doing nothing, it’s demoralizing.’

‘Where shall we go? Hector’s in the House, won’t be back till late.’

‘Berkeley?’

‘Fine. I’ll dress.’

‘No, don’t waste time.’

‘Talk to me while I tidy, then.’

Oliver followed her to her bedroom. ‘You do live in style.’

‘Nice, isn’t it? I’m changing the house quite a lot. Hector doesn’t mind what I do here as long as I don’t interfere in Scotland.’

‘What’s that like? Antlers and kilts?’

‘It’s Hector’s place,’ she said drily.

He watched her brush her hair, touch up her face, put on a coat, move about the room. He kept his eyes away from the bed. Hector’s bed, her rich husband.

‘Polly’s got a bigger one.’ She stared at him from the mirror, a finger smoothing her eyebrows.

‘Bigger what?’ She’d noticed.

‘Bigger bed. She’s moved into her mum’s room to have the telephone near her. It’s not so high up if she gets bombed.’

‘I suppose there will be raids sometime. Hurry up, Calypso, I’m starving.’

‘I must just telephone.’

Oliver waited impatiently. Calypso appeared to be breaking an engagement. She rang off.

‘Who was that?’

‘Just someone I was having dinner with tonight. I can go out with him any time.’

‘Like that sailor?’

‘He was only in London for a night.’

‘Like me.’

‘I didn’t know him like you. Did you take Sophy out
faute de mieux?
’

‘Polly left her alone.’

‘I bet she enjoyed it. Sophy is going to be a beauty. She adores you.’

‘She loves us all because we are so much older.’

‘We represent glamour.’

They walked along the street. Oliver held Calypso’s arm. She wore an expensive fur coat, smelled of scent, clipped along in high heels. He remembered holding her on the cliff, the feel of her breasts. He stopped a taxi. They got in.

‘You smell different.’

‘So will you when you get your new uniform.’

They sat side by side in the restaurant. Calypso knew people at other tables. She waved.

‘Tell me about your rich husband.’

‘He’s busy. He’s clever. He’s ambitious. He’s doing well. He will do better. He visits his constituency. He lets me do what I want, within reason.’

‘Are you happy?’

‘I’ve got what I want.’

‘That’s not the same thing.’

‘When do you go to Norway?’

‘I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you if I knew. I leave London tomorrow, tonight, really, at dawn.’

‘I see.’

‘What about my comforts? You swore you’d sleep with me.’